


In Vino Veritas: Getting Graped

by PseudoFox



Category: Pack Street - Fandom, Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Awkwardness, Comedy, Crossdressing, Drama, Friendship/Love, Furry, Humor, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9795260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoFox/pseuds/PseudoFox
Summary: Valentine's Day has come around in the city of Zootopia, and mammal after mammal plans to spend the evening enjoying a nice drink and more with their special someones. On Pack Street, however, frustrated ram Remmy Cormo faces a lousy time at work that makes him wish he'd never even gotten out of bed. At least, well, until the cute stoat Martina walks in. This is a part of the 'Thematic Thursday' recurring event.





	

Marty gazed at his reflection in the mirror as he reached over to a little tray filled with various scents. He had the instinct to try something mango-based, maybe with a touch of lime and other fruits, which gave off a zesty vibe. With Charlie safely gone, the fox venturing out with some underworld spy type friend from goodness know's where, the slender stoat had the apartment thankfully to himself. Valentine's Day provided him with the ideal excuse to unwind.

He didn't just had time to have fun— he had time to shine. 

With a touch of eyeliner, a bit of foundation, and a bunch of sprays with the orange-striped bottle, Marty melted away all of his woes that had built-up over the past week. The mango scent seemed to flow right through his lungs deep into his very soul— acting like a magical potion in one of those D&D games that he loved so much. Day after day of tedious routines at the library, snide remarks from his neighbors, terrible incidents of predator-versus-prey confrontations, and everything else meant nothing. As he pressed his paws against his sides, feeling his frilly black dress rubbing up against his neat fur, Marty couldn't help but smile.

Last, but certainly not least, the stoat slipped his paws down to a special drawer and thrust it open. He gazed upon his collection of wigs before picked up a particularly short yet rather cute one. The dark brown piece of fluff fit upon the top of his head perfectly.

Finally, Marty had become Martina.

Anticipation dripped from her eyes as she thought up various scenarios for the night ahead. She'd played around with various outfits for weeks upon weeks, mostly staying around the library and the gym. Yet she hadn't gotten the courage to finally type in 'mixed-race casual dating' into Zoogle until that past Sunday. Spending Valentine's Day alone shouldn't have mattered so much, but the social pressures chewed at him like Remmy chomping through a plate of fish tacos.

Pop-up ads with badly spelled words stamped upon grotesque imagery— mixed with an array of enticement for cheap Volagra, phony pills that Charlie had her own paw in given her recording in hustling the poor-eyesight afflicted mammals— had bombarded the stoat day after day. Still, Martina had soldiered on through various websites. Finally, Timber had managed to provide him with a variety of sensual yet down-to-earth messages.

Questions of just how convincing she looked when playing the 'young girl on the town' role always got brushed aside. Martina grinned from cheek to cheek as she flashed back to the extremely detailed, sometimes even grotesque, comments that she'd received online in the past two days alone. For obvious reasons, interest in wolves, foxes, and the like hit too close to home for Martina to pursue flings with them. The diversity of interest— almost like one of those old 'Difursity' motivational posters up at her library— still surprised her.

So did their often pleading tone. It wasn't so much what the muscular tigers, gruff rhinos, and other studs said that they wanted to do with her. It was what they promised to do to her.

She stepped around the dingy bathroom and clutched her smartphone. She tapped through a few apps, grinning at the various notifications. The fact that Martina played the submissive role aggressively— the litany of emoticons and little images of tongues licking fangs that she scrolled through proved how effectively she teased, always having the upper paw— surprised plenty of mammals. She gazed at the small, smiling icon of one particular tiger.

Something about him, like Martina's last conquests, put out this peculiar aura. The tall, striped figure in the surplus ZPD sweatshirt looked strong and masculine— his big pecs made that clear— yet he acted awkward and shy enough to remind one of an manga-bound schoolgirl. Martina giggled as she rechecked the stud's profile page for the twenty-ninth time. The tiger hadn't just dressed in a stormtrooper outfit to the opening weekend of "The Furce Awakens": he'd actually mentioned it as a point of pride.

The words 'fresh meat' and 'make that teen finally grow up' constantly came to the perverted stoat's mind. Marty lived a life with work responsibilities, a facade of combative bluster in order to stay safe, and the like— a chip on his shoulder that cut quite deep. Yet Martina, on the other paw, had freedom. She had dreams. She had, as well, raw lusts. And she could mingle them all into a pint-sized package able to bite, tear, rip, and slash just as well as passionately kiss.

Martina put on a spring to her step as she ventured out of the bathroom into the apartment proper. "Big, fuzzy lug won't know what hit him," she muttered to herself. He reached for a light, comfortable jacket— pushing the chair on which it had rest back into place— and straighten a pair of statues sitting on an end table as well.

Sadly, the effects on the Charlie-Marty-'Martina' apartment looked as futile as lighting a candle in the middle of a snowstorm. The stoat scanned the various odds and ends laid haphazardly all around— errant napkins had scattered about like blowing tumbleweeds, the floor desperately needing a good vacuuming— and she scoffed. Martina turned her face up, closed her eyes, and cleared her throat.

"Goodness, the ruffians that live here," Martina said to herself. She then paused, trying to lighten her voice a bit more. "I hope that they learn some sense of basic cleanliness— basic hygiene, to be frank." She opened the door, picked up a purse on an end table, and winked at her reflection in the side of a metal bookcase. "Well, Marty, wherever you are, I'm off! Happy Valentine's Day!"

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Once upon a time, Remmy had moved to the beleaguered neighborhood of Pack Street in order to save a bunch of bucks on rent. Getting to really know the mammals around him, not to mention gaining their trust, proved a rocky task to say the least. Still, Remmy found himself wishing that he worked for the frank yet honest— often even downright altruistic— predators rather than the dimwitted pair of hares that had taken over as his new bosses. They probably felt just as surly that Valentine's Day— Avo liked to call it 'Mandatory Consumer Burdening Day Number 101' or something like that— as he did.

The ram groaned as he slipped his arms into a heavy costume. He closed his eyes and shoved the last parts of his body into the gangling mass of cotton and polyester. He pushed out his chest, turning around in a small circle, and glared at the large mirror in the corner of the office. Mercifully chill air blasted down from the office's powerful fans across the ceiling, but he still had itch himself all over.

He looked like a hapless little ewe's drawing of a grape bunch somehow come to life. The purple plush bits stuck all together across his body. His arms and legs had some room to maneuver, thankfully, but his head barely stuck out of the top. Phony grapes filled up his senses as the outfit clung to his wool.

"Just because I do something even related to food doesn't meant that I have to dress like an asshole. What is it with that and bosses everywhere? Is there some kind of an unwritten rule or something? File this next to 'Waste Not, Want Not', 'Tastes Great, Less Filling', 'It's Not Gay If He's Prey', 'Try Everything', and the rest of that trendy shit." Remmy fumbled for the thankfully large canister of lemon-lime soda that he'd brought in, drinking down every drop in one gulp.

He just knew that the hares had to have it out for him. There's no way that they would pick a ram, of all mammals, to do the costume bit otherwise. Remmy wondered if his new supervisor had seen their mother cheating with a lamb casanova when they were just little does or otherwise some faux-Freudian excuse.

"Oh, sure, the mammals at BugBurga get used to it," Remmy muttered, scratching all around his neck, "I know that. They know that. It doesn't affect me. Damned hippity-hops keep saying that as if they want to pull off a Jedi mind trick."

The ram's hooves scratched across every nook and cranny of the costume. It helped a little. He ambled himself in a little circle in the middle of the office. One of the store's clerks had muttered something about customers expecting him to dance. Just thinking that d-word one brought an ill feeling to the pit of the ram's stomach.

"All that Rex and the other 'Burga boys' they have to wear is a damned uniform and a hat! A hat!" Remmy knocked a plastic canister full of pamphlets onto the ground. "Come on, I work for this grocery store for weeks on end— adding up register totals in my head, sorting out boxes with only a slight glance, and everything else— I'm not some gullible idiot at a summer job!"

A loud rustling from outside of the office made the ram freeze. He heard some steps in the distance, outside of the room's main door, and tried his best to bend over, picking up the pamphlets. He awkwardly shoved the canister onto a shelf before losing his balance— falling upon a set of produce-themed costumes. Remmy kicked against a gigantic foam peach and finally got himself back on his two legs.

"Ugh, who cares if this grape shit is half-off or whatever the hell it's at now, anyways? Mammals mostly come in here for the liquor, everybody knows that!" He stepped over to the side door with great anxiety— trying his best not to bump into any cardboard boxes full of old banana skins, plastic bins littered with leaky baby wipes, or tall garbage cans crammed with mold-covered mushrooms. Finally getting the hang of the costume, at least somewhat, still didn't improve Remmy's mood one iota.

After several long seconds of fumbling for the door handle, Remmy found himself before the harsh lights and anodyne muzak of the grocery store's main floor. Thankfully, this white rack filled area had gotten sectioned off in order to put up new merchandise— letting him chill out as he adjusted more and more to the grape outfit. Remmy shut his eyes and tried to recall some pleasant Fleetwood Yak song that he'd listened to that morning.

It helped quite a bit. He opened up his eyes once again, putting on a determined expression, and turned over to the corridor leading to the center of the grocery store. He braced his arms in the air and prepared himself to sell those pathetic pieces of fructose and salt like he'd never sold anything before. Remmy took one step forward.

He promptly slipped right onto his rear end. He sucked in a huge breath as he glared at the nearby mop and bucket pair. Remmy's legs wiggled in the air helplessly as the color drained from his face.

"I'm going to get somebody for this. They're going to pay for making me deal with this shit. I don't know who. I don't know how. But I swear it."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"My princess," moaned the tiger, massaging his paws all around Martina's sides. He closed his eyes and locked lips with the stoat once again. Martina's tongue shoved into the apex predator's mouth, slurping around with total abandonment. Her own paws migrated across the tiger's flush cheeks, locking him in position.

They'd hit it off so well after the light dinner that they clung to each other like magnets. Walking down some alleyways on the path to Pack Street proper, something about Martina's lewd quips and teasing winks finally proved too much. Thankfully alone, the tiger had showed some initative for only the second time that evening.

Before long, they found themselves in a wayward storage room on the edge of a closed department store— the door left ajar. It was like a storybook moment for their growing romance— if 'repressed bisexual jocks on forensics scholarships wrote storybooks' or so the tiger had said. Massaging turned quickly into passionate groping. For all his size and power, the tiger relished letting the stoat take the lead quite a bit.

They both sweat as the tiger's paws rubbed around Martina's lower back. The kiss went on for a while, both of them not wanting the glorious moment to end. Finally, the tiger pulled his head back and nudged the stoat against his shirtless chest. Martina gently massaged her paws against the tiger's shoulders and sighed happily.

"My goddess..."

"Oh, stop it you," Martina cooed, feeling the tiger prodding and poking around her skirt. A certain particular part of her body throbbed down there, and the stoat eagerly brought the tiger's attention to it. She pressed one of his paws down hard just as she made an assertive nibble on his big chest.

"You're my... my own little..." The apex predator's moves abruptly stopped. Feeling herself start to slide downward, almost falling off of the tiger's grip onto the cold floor, Martina opened up her eyes wide. The tiger's face, overcome with sheer bliss just a few seconds ago, had become blank and emotionless.

"What? What is it, sweetheart?" Martina tried to put a pretty hilt to her voice.

"I... sorry, but I can't," murmured the apex predator. A pained expression came over him. Martina could do nothing but stare.

The tiger closed his eyes as he picked up the stoat by her arms and gently placed her atop one of the closet's many shelves. Martina held a paw over her mouth, her blood feeling as if it had turned to ice. She watched the tiger lean up against the wall and turn away from her. As cramped as they were in the small storage closet, he already started to pretend that she wasn't even there.

"I, well," the tiger began, "it's the same old story, I guess. I've always liked girls enough to know that I'm not gay, but I've been so driven to play around that it went beyond just the stereotypical 'curious' phase. Going both ways? With you, I thought that it would be best of both worlds, having my cake and eating it too." He tapped his head against the wall in frustration. "I just... I've got to stop. I'm feeling too... too mixed up, deep down. I'm not sure this is who I am."

"Why care about who you are," Martina cooed seductively, licking the end of a wooden mop, "when you could care about... what you need." She slid a paw against her skirt, pulling it down and exposing her bare fur.

The tiger looked over hungrily at the stoat— his eyes focusing like laser beams on Martina's rear end. Still, the apex predator put on a huge frown and clasped his paws together. "I'm... sorry. I'm really sorry."

"Well, there's—"

"I should go," the tiger declared. Before waiting for a response, he thrust open the door and ran right out of the closet. The irony didn't even occur to Martina. She froze— mouth hung open in mid-sentence— for a good half-minute.

The stoat then grit her teeth. She kicked the mop down and smashed it against the closet floor. She slid down a hung-up jacket, brushing up against the door, and let out an exasperated moan.

"Well, that's the last Goddamn time I get a hook-up from Timber!" She jumped forward and kicked the door shut behind her. Her paws tussled her skirt as she narrowed her eyes.

The dirty street before her— garbage blowing in the wind past boarded-up stores stretching alongside the cold asphalt— suited her mood perfectly. The stoat needed an outlet. She had to let the aggression out. It didn't count as a standard want anymore— she had to get release.

"I swear in the name of everything that's holy—" Martina felt something like phantom pains inside of her mouth, knowing how deep she had thrust her tongue when she made out with her tiger. "I'm going to force some big hunk of meat to fuck me tonight if it's the last thing I do!" She tapped her arms against her crotch. Sure enough, her pitched tent in her panties remained. "Fucked with love! Fucked with respect! Fucked like the perfect little goddess I am!"

__-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-_ _

__"Hello again, yarnball," Betty remarked, the wolf folding her arms in front of her plain grey t-shirt. The wolf stepped over and leaned against the brick wall beside the store's massive double-doors._ _

__"Hi," Remmy mouthed, "yes." His defeated-sounding monotone matched his empty expression rather well. "You got another joke to make? Another hour or so until the shift's done, but with this slow trickle of customers you won't get an audience other than me."_ _

__His tired eyes seemed to have reached the level of half-open slits a few hours ago. By this point in the night, he simply wandered about the front of the grocery store like a lost lamb forsaken by his herd. His mental autopilot went right back to his instincts._ _

__Betty had tried out a few juicy puns over the course of the evening— having more misses than hits. Avo had popped up for good measure as well— snapping some photos for her Zoogle Plus account. Remmy thanked his lucky stars that Al, Ozzy, and the bulk of his neighbors seemed occupied that night. He shuddered at even the thought of how Marty would react._ _

__Still, for whatever reason, Betty remained completely silent as she moved over beside the costume-wearing ram. Remmy's eyes met hers. He shifted forward in the bench on which he sat._ _

__"Nah," the wolf finally remarked. She said the word as if she was swatting away a fly. Yet her expression, head tilted to the side and eyes somewhat wide, appeared calm, even wistful. "You've had more than enough already. Besides, me and Al know more than most about how much it truly sucks to have your job make you do humiliating things. Stuff that happens for no reason but the boss' own stupidity, you know?"_ _

__"Alright," Remmy muttered. It occurred to him that— while he'd seen the alpha wolf going to and from work several times and chatted a bit about it— he'd felt reluctant about having similar conversations with Betty. Honestly, he felt like she'd grown more and more of a tendency to mother him, particularly at the weirdest moments._ _

__"Given that you'll probably be doing what I think you'll be doing after work," Betty went on, reaching for her pockets and lighting a cigarette, "Avo and I decided to help you with a little head-start." She reached over for one of her back pockets and pulled out a canister._ _

__"Oh, uhh, another of those lime-ish sodas," Remmy said, reaching an arm out, "thanks, but like I said before, we get store-brand sodas for free as long as we—"_ _

__"Shut it, yarnball!" Betty barked out. Remmy duly closed his mouth. The wolf immediately put on a little grin. "Now open it back up!" The grape-suited ram hesitated for a few seconds, clutching the tall soda can. "Dummy, just drink it!"_ _

__"Fine." Remmy popped open the can and took a big swig. His eyes swelled open as he tried his best not to spit the liquid out— tasting something almost sickeningly sweet and yet somehow sour in a way that he could barely understand. "The hell is—"_ _

__"If you work for a booze-based place but can't drink the booze, don't just complain, dummy! Get yourself some bogey containers and then go to town," Betty remarked, her grin getting wider as well as more devious. She produced from behind her a whole six-pack of the cans. "Avo and Charlie used to do this thing for a living, you know?"_ _

__"Wait, are you crazy, I can't!" Remmy protested, trying his best to keep from screaming the words out since a few wayward customers remained wandering the store's floors, "I'll be drunk off my ass after the shift, but before then—"_ _

__"Drink on the company's dime?" She took a big drag from her cigarette, still grinning._ _

__"I just—"_ _

__"Sheesh, dummy, you told me in your own words that you've done nothing tonight other than look stupid," Betty said, slapping her big paw against one of Remmy's huge plush grapes. The ram's staring at the ground said more than any words. "So, if you're looking stupid, well, why not actually _get stupid_? There's nothing that you need to do in the next hour other than take the damned thing off and click a few buttons to clock out, right?"_ _

__"Right."_ _

__"So," Betty continued, suddenly grabbing the can out of Remmy's grip and sucking it down herself, "why get so bored in the last stretch that your brains seep out of those silly sheep ears like spilled tapioca?" The weird visual occupied Remmy's mind, keeping him from responding. "Take it, and relax."_ _

__"I guess," the ram finally responded. He thought back for a moment. In truth, he felt less and less like pushing back when either Al or Betty put some notion before him over the past few weeks. It went beyond a kind of natural pulling together that 'the pack' showed in the face of the predator-on-prey turmoil lately— the big wolves had started to treat him like an additional arm or leg, some fundamental part of them that had to work just as well as every other._ _

__"Great!" Betty remarked, putting on an uncharacteristically cheerful expression. She teasingly griped and rubbed the ram's grape outfit for a moment. "Honestly, I was worried that I'd have to waste my time cramming this idea through your thick skull. With you just up and listening to me, now I can get back to finding just where the living hell Marty got off to."_ _

__"Oh... uhh... okay," Remmy muttered, barely sure how to respond. The wolf, for her part, took that as an ideal answer nonetheless. Betty ventured off into the night and left the pack of altered cans sitting underneath the bench._ _

__Remmy wandered about in a circle for a few minutes, humming a Gazelle tune that had gotten stuck into his head. He stared silently as the last tiny embers died out in Betty's cigarette, tossed atop the nearby wastebasket. After a group of yaks frittered out of the store, leaving him alone save a pair of rabbit clerks sucked into their phones and a stoned-looking deer staring intently at an economy-size bottle of ketchup, the ram reached for a soda can._ _

__Fortunately, the weird taste had gotten more tolerable the second time. He wondered what exactly went into the mix— something involving cheap wine coolers spiked with cheaper fruit juice, probably— as he finished the can. Whatever it was, Betty had consumed it and lived, so it couldn't be _that_ dangerous._ _

__Time dragged on at a sloth's pace. The hapless deer got into a quasi-argument— with meta-philosophical dimensions to it, no less— with one of the clerks over the difference between 'catsup' and 'ketchup'. Remmy didn't hesitate to down a second can. The debate finally amped up to the point that he got involved; the sheep insisting that, indeed, 'catsup' is utterly unrelated to actual felines. The third can soon followed. The mental line that he kept feeding itself— 'it won't be too much if there's still one can left'— finally reached it's climax as he looked over and saw only one bogey canister leaned up against the store's entrance._ _

__With only about twenty minutes to go, Remmy enjoyed what felt like a fuzzy, sugary blanket covering his entire mind. Just as he had earlier that the night, he even decided to a doing a few little dances in the costume, a jig here and a moonwalk there, to the store's bland muzak. All in all, even if he couldn't function mentally beyond an elementary school level, Remmy's large smile said it all._ _

__A crashing noise sounded off at the far corner of the store. Remmy found himself flipping over and almost falling right into a massive open seafood cooler. He popped himself back on his feet, sucking in a deep breath, and looked right over. A small, tube-like animal stood next to a smashed jar of grape jelly. The creature looked greatly familiar._ _

__-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-_ _

__"Oh, _goodness_ , I'm sorry," Martina called out, not quite paying attention to the lumbering figure behind her as she clutched the massive paper towels. The stoat gritted her teeth as she carefully tried to isolate the bits of glass on the floor. She tried to dunk the paper bits into the ice-water of a soda-filled cooler. "I'll just be a minute. I promise— actually, I insist on— that I'll clean this up myself. Ugh, I've had a really flustered night so far, and I wasn't paying attention."_ _

__The stoat didn't explain that she'd been wandering Pack Street looking for adventurous males looking for a good time. The pitched tent in Martina's skirt had remained as stubbornly noticeable as ever. Even if getting turned down politely never quite hurt, her having accepted that most studs just didn't swing that way, her own hot-blooded drive continued to vex her._ _

__Hopping from bar to bar over the past hour in particular hadn't helped. With the liquid courage getting poured as it if was the night before a new prohibition, Martina had a tougher time finding excuses for holding back as much herself, but the guys didn't quite get adventurous enough. The stoat couldn't exactly tell whatever grocery store employee had walked up behind her the full truth: she'd gone for a particular brand of grape soda not just out of thirst but also in the hope that holding the chill can in a particularly sensitive area would bring it to heel._ _

__"It's a... well... if..." Remmy muttered, holding his arms awkwardly in the air. It hadn't even occurred to him until he scurried over to the bent-over mammal that he'd be unable to actually help. The bulky costume had a hard enough time even letting him scratch his nose— let alone pick up minute pieces of broken glass. "It's... well, thanks."_ _

__"Oh, thank you for your calm tone of voice," Martina said. She carefully pressed the last bits of the ruined jelly jar into a massive layer of paper towels, soon shoving that whole pile into an adjacent Pupperware container. "I'll pay for the jar. I'll pay for this plastic bin. I'll even pay for the spill-station paper if you want. I'm so glad that you're taking things so well. Why, the last time I was at a prey-run store at _this hour_ , they just about screamed and—"_ _

__Martina suddenly turned. She looked straight up at Remmy. The ram looked straight down at her. An extremely awkward few seconds of complete silence passed._ _

__"It's... you..." Martina murmured. She dropped the plastic container as her mouth opened up wide._ _

__"Yeah, um," Remmy began. Even if he was completely sober, explaining to the cute, flirtatious Martina— the one Pack Street neighbor that had greeted him with a pleasant smile and a sunny warmth, from the very beginning, out of all of them— just how humiliating his job had gotten was a tall order. "I... it's me, alright." Doing so in a deep stupor seemed as impossible as braving the rainforest without bug-spray._ _

__"It's the Grapist!" Martina's expression grew so cheerful and free— her cheeks turning red and her paws clutching her shoulders— that she looked ready to explode in a burst of rainbows._ _

__"The... the what now..." the sheep whispered._ _

__"I'm so glad— you'll never believe me how much— that this store is finally doing the full promotion! The grape bars, the grape jellies, the grape sodas, and— wow— now this!" Martina jumped up and down in place. "The Grapist character has been my favorite ever since I was old enough to watch TV in the first place! Been my life-long idol! My hero!"_ _

__"Oh, sure, thanks." Remmy reached down with both arms. Martina immediately slapped high-fives into both of them._ _

__"The Grapist! He ties you up! He shoves you down and promises to 'grape you in the mouth'!"_ _

__"Uhh..."_ _

__"That jolly purple giant— breaking into your house as you sleep and screaming if he sees you wearing purple that you're 'asking for it'— got to me so much that I even was him, myself! In school, in the 'nutrition pageant'!" Martina stopped to swoon, turning her head to the side and sighing happily at the sweet memory. "I got to be the mascot, delivering the lines about the importance of grapes for a balanced diet, and that self-confidence boost let me be _me_ for once, you know?"_ _

__"That's... cool." The whole thing felt like an out-of-body experience for Remmy. When looking from the front or from below, yes, it was pretty hard to tell that it was him in the bulky suit. Still, the stoat had to get the clue somehow, even if only half his face was exposed, sooner or later._ _

__"Yeah, so, for whomever you are, in that suit," Martina went on, making finger-guns in the air, "know that you'll always have a fan in me. No matter what anybody else says." She gripped the small box crammed full of various grape-based products on a nearby shelf. "Well, I guess if this is clean—" Martina stood up straight and turned to face the checkout counter. "I'm pretty much good to go—"_ _

__The stoat took a wrong step and landed a paw right on a wayward piece of wet paper towel. Martina did fascinating kind of aerial twist— Remmy staring at the scene with eyes wide open— before falling back into a counter full of yogurt-covered raisins. The stoat rapidly wiggled about his body and made a huge groan._ _

__"Oh, dear," Remmy began, stepping over and trying to reach for the stoat, "are you—"_ _

__"Ugh!" Martina screamed out. She brushed box after box of raisins off of her and loudly sniffed. "Am I going to screw up everything today? Really!"_ _

__"Don't fret," Remmy interjected, fumbling with the costume's arms and managing to pick up one of Martina's legs, "it's just— I need— oh!"_ _

__Another awkward moment caused them both to freeze, still as statues. Martina and Remmy both stared at a particular spot as the ram held the stoat upside down. Her dress upturned and panties slid slightly to the side, the stoat's still-strong erection poked out definitely into the open air. The sheep's eyes constantly flip-flopped from the exposed shaft over to the stoat's blush-covered face and then back to the erection once again._ _

__Finally, Remmy broke the silence. "Well," he mouthed, gently putting Martina down so that she sat flat upon her shopping crate. He didn't dare touch the messed-up skirt, still bunched so that the R-rated sight was clear as crystal. "I, uh, that's something."_ _

__"I'm... I can't put into words how sorry I am! How embarrassed I am! You didn't need to see that!" Martina looked as if she tried her best to will her arms and legs to move. Yet she remained stuck in place out of sheer awkwardness— Remmy seeing her limbs merely shake, acting as if she was a puppet trying to act without strings._ _

__"Hey, we've... all adult mammals have seen things that they didn't need to see," Remmy said, lurching away from the stoat, "I can just go about the evening."_ _

__"Yes, I guess," murmured Martina. She finally managed to bring her arms down to cover her belly and hips._ _

__"I know that ferrets and weasels, really all of those tube-like ones, have... different kinds of stuff... down there," Remmy muttered, his mind trying to flash back to inclusive multi-mammal sex education classes. He had a hard enough time remembering where he lived at the moment. "I probably heard that you're, uh, pleasure part gets big for... your species' girls." The hole that Remmy had dug himself into became apparent as the ram gauged Martina's confused expression._ _

__"I, well, yes, different mammals have different stuff between their legs," Martina squeaked. Her face had gotten so flush that Remmy wondered if she might pass out. For her part, meanwhile, the stoat's rational mind floated on a sea of wild, unruly thoughts. A raw, naughty thrill at getting seen in public fought against dread at getting in trouble while the sentence 'heaven help me, he thinks I just have a big clit' endlessly repeated._ _

__The sheep tried not to slap himself in frustration. Whispering under his breath to change the subject to something else besides species-versus-species divides— contrasts that had basically eaten up half his life already— Remmy clutched for something else, anything else. His eyes scanned the supermarket shelves above the uncertain stoat. A banner before a bunch of gigantic peanut butter jars— the size of an average mammal's whole head— caught his eye._ _

__Apparently, one of his bosses had floated the idea of putting up a notice about avoiding salmonella poisoning from buying broken containers. The text read: "If I pop that off, will you spoil? It could be extremely painful. You're a big jar. For you."_ _

__"So," Martina started to say, trying to break the tension._ _

__"Oh, anyways, forget what I just said. What just happened."_ _

__"Alright," the stoat replied, going back to her cheerful smile._ _

__"If you don't mind my asking," Remmy began. Various parts of his drunken mind somehow screamed out in desperation at each other. He decided to just say what came immediately to mind. "I guess because you're so smooth and slinky, you wind up falling on things? Is that pretty painful?"_ _

__"Uhh..."_ _

__"Oh, sorry, I don't want to sound speciest." Remmy mentally kicked himself. "I only was—"_ _

__"Don't worry!" Martina scratched her face, having a thoughtful look on. "I get like a klutz when my mind plays tricks on me. I keep thinking of mammals that I've spent the day talking to, things said that have to worry about, and it all kind of clogs my senses."_ _

__"Oh, I get it!" Remmy interjected. "So, that explains where the stiffy came from. Was it somebody you just met?"_ _

__"What?" Martina flatly asked._ _

__"What?" Remmy repeated. It felt as if he had watched himself like a character in some video game or the like. He remembered hearing the words. Yet he didn't remember saying them. The full gravity of the question abruptly hit the ram like the force from a punch. "Oh, wow, I'm sorry, it slipped—"_ _

__"It was you, I suppose!" Martina abruptly interjected. Remmy sat flat down on the store's tile floor— his mind feeling blank. For her part, Martina went through the same mental process of internal horror and shock that Remmy had just went went through. "Oh, I—"_ _

__"That's cute."_ _

__"Cute?" It was Martina's turn to repeat things._ _

__"It's," Remmy started to say, and it finally occurred to him that downing the phony sodas in so rapid a succession might have pushed him farther than he'd ever gone before. Saving at least one for later didn't change how drinking on an empty stomach wasn't a smart notion either. "I'm not sure what I'm saying." He made a big sigh. "It's that, more or less, getting like that for a fictional character on TV is a pretty common thing." He didn't add that feeling that way for a commercial ad campaign— especially one aimed at young mammals and their families— maybe crossed the 'pervert' line. "And for me, even if it's for the actual character and not the guy in the suit, is... it's flattering? I think?"_ _

__"It's weird," Martina squeaked, "I know."_ _

__Remmy nudged himself back, away from Martina, as he tried to think of some way to end the awkwardness that they'd both stepped into. He brushed up against a large display full of peaches, nearly knocking them all down upon himself, and his eyes fluttered all across the store. The other employees were around there, somewhere, but he didn't see any other customers. Finally, his eyes came upon the clock._ _

__"Ugh, I just am in such a tense haze, nothing to do with you or the store," Martina groused, tapping her paws upon her shopping crate, " _nothing_ today has gone right. I had errands to do. I had groceries to buy—"_ _

__"Here," Remmy interjected, gripping the crate crammed full of grape-based items and leading the stoat to the end of the aisle, "I'll help you get checked out. I've got less than five minutes before I'm off the clock, myself, anyways."_ _

__"I had dates to go on to—"_ _

__"I'll go on a date with you, Martina," Remmy blurted out, not even thinking in the slightest. He frantically waved his arms in front of the rabbit at the 'ten items or less' station. The heavy-set clerk remained entranced by his smartphone— eyes immersed in this little world of shiny gem puzzles. Even an M80 going off behind his head wouldn't stop the bunny's paws from frantically tapping on their own._ _

__"Oh, hey, you mean it?" Martina beamed. She quickly laid out her items in front of the clerk as she sucked in a deep breath. While she could barely keep her train of thought from derailing, spending time with at least one more guy— especially one that seemed both highly drunk and oddly compassion— seemed like a fantastic idea. Her infatuation with the Grapist character itself made it all the more appealing._ _

__"Sure, uh, at the very least we can get one drink together," Remmy muttered. He didn't feel like screaming at the clerk, and his costume severely restricted his movements. The ram grabbed one of the black bars that separated one customer's groceries from another. He waved the bar in the air like a wizard casting a spell. He then popped it atop the smartphone and firmly pushed it down._ _

__Unfortunately, the bunny just lowered his head and kept on typing. Remmy kept pushing, and the clerk bent himself into a pretzel-esque shape. Still, the glowing screen kept its hypnotizing grip on him. Finally, the ram slid the bar over the top of the smartphone and rapidly tapped as well. The rabbit held his paws in the air, letting out a gasp, and snapped to attention— hopping up to the side of the register._ _

__"This young lady is ready to check out, Claude!"_ _

__"My apologies," the rabbit called out, shoving his paws forward and gripping a pair of grape sodas, "I, well ma'am, I was only—" The irritated expression on the pretty stoat proved that she felt exactly the same as Remmy did. " _Canidae Crush_ opened up its latest tournament yesterday."_ _

__"Don't care."_ _

__"The top 100 rankings," Claude went on, scanning a collection of exotic grape jellies, "win not just a free phone upgrade but a bonus shopping spree on the Zoogle Play Store."_ _

__"Still don't care."_ _

__"Thank you very much for coming here, ma'am!" The clerk brushed a paw over both of his eyes, trying not to yawn, and nodded as he grabbed Martina's debit card. He quickly ran through the rest of transaction and gave the stoat her receipt. "We hope to see you again, soon!" He forced himself in a slight, weak smile as Martina clutched the small paper._ _

__"Claude."_ _

__"Oh, yes?" As Martina walked out the door, Claude allowed himself to make a gigantic yawn. His mouth opened up so wide that it looked as if he was going to bite off one of the fake grapes on Remmy's outfit._ _

__"Time for me to get off."_ _

__"With _that_ cutie pie, in more ways than one," the rabbit muttered under his breath._ _

__"Hey!" Remmy felt that he had to protest, even if his drunken mind had already started to float some of those notions already._ _

__"Oh, sorry," Claude remarked, hopping away from the register and rubbing his face with a washcloth, "I just—"_ _

__"It's late, you can smell the booze from under my breath, I caught you so sucked into your puzzle addiction that you drooling onto the counter, your cousin is off picking his nose and eating it before handling the produce, our manager is over half an hour late from his BugBurga run, and this damned suit itches me in places that shouldn't ever itch," Remmy rattled on in his defeated tone of voice._ _

__"Wait, I actually drooled," the rabbit began, stopping as he slid his paw against the edge of the register and touched something sticky._ _

__"I'm out of here," Remmy declared. Claude shrugged back. The ram ventured over to an unmammaled register and tapped a bunch of numbers into its big touchscreen. A massive 'ok sign' popped up and Remmy made a happy sigh._ _

__He walked over to the doors out of the grocery store and glanced at Martina. The stoat leaned up against the same bench that he'd spent so much of the night sitting on. She grinned and waved. He waved back._ _

__As he went to take off his costume, Remmy let his mind wander once again. All slurs of 'pred chaser', 'appetizer', and the like aside, the ram had gotten to the point where he really didn't think that love should get limited between species alone. Defying those categories seemed as natural as breathing. He'd always liked Martina quite a bit, even if he didn't apply the feelings in _that way_ before._ _

__Yet the distinct view up her skirt, showing things that shouldn't have been shown even somewhat in public, seemed to jar something deep in his mind. More than that, of course, the booze in his system started to hit so hard that even walking felt like a chore. He stepped into the store's office section and ambled out of the costume. As he shoved it deep into an immense box, the ram stopped to examine his reflection in a mirror._ _

__It wasn't that he looked like garbage. It wasn't that he looked like _tired_ garbage. It wasn't even that he looked like _drunken and tired_ garbage. What fixated the ram's thoughts was that Martina, for whatever incredibly reason, had a grape fixation exactly like her brother so strong that an idiotic mascot suit had become a turn-on. He needed something else besides his plain white t-shirt and equally plain grey shorts to wear, even if the spur-of-the-moment quasi-date became nothing._ _

__Remmy shoved himself into the batch of other outfits and tossed various bits of fabric around. Every get-up seemed more pitiful than the last. Finally, he came upon what the store's peons had dubbed 'Grape Groper 1.0'. The embryonic version of the full 'Grapist' costume consisted of glittering cuff-links, a bunch of bracelets, a puffy vest, a gigantic belt, frilly pseudo-shorts, a big eye mask, a long bandanna, a wide cape, and immense slippers. Naturally, every single item had bright purple grapes across every inch._ _

__Remmy had heard that it all was destined for some charity donation box. He took in a gigantic breath, scratching all over his wool, and began putting everything on. Before long, he looked like the berry-themed sexual predator that he always knew that he could be._ _

__In just a matter of seconds, the ram found himself towering over the stoat in front of the store. Martina made a confused little noise and scratched his cheek. He then smiled yet again and clutched his groceries._ _

__"Oh, you! I love it," the stoat remarked, "you're the Grapist's rival from that one batch of commercials! Like the one showed during the Super Bowl!"_ _

__"I get to take this one home with me. So, well, I can wear it to the... uh... date..."_ _

__"Date," Martina repeated, "wait a moment, Remmy, what are you talking about?" The ram stepped back, eyes looking down to the ground. "I'm glad to see you again, sure, but I'm waiting to meet this guy here. He's dressed up in this big costume covered in plush berries, the main character that—"_ _

__"Martina, it's me."_ _

__"That I—"_ _

__" _It's me._ " Remmy motioned across his body and mimed having a bunch of bulky fabric blobs all over him._ _

__"Oh, okay," Martina murmured. She knew that she had to stop. She had to set up some kind of mental accounting to sort things out. Remmy had acted, in the few times that they'd been together, like a rather sweet friend to Martina, but even a short, casual relationship with him— nothing beyond one or two dates—would present a long list of problems._ _

__At the same time, the stoat's hot-blooded lust screamed at her to take the initiative once again. The ram had already gotten an eyeful of the delights under her skirt. He clearly could become putty in her hands if she pushed him. The intoxicating brew that scented the ram's breath clearly showed— even beyond how impulsive he sounded— proved that she had the opportunity to simply dominate him._ _

__"It's been, uh, a while," Remmy remarked. He stepped about aimlessly in front of the store for a moment, the stoat slowly following. He then brushed up against the large bench and spotted something underneath a shrubbery. "Oh, there we go!"_ _

__Martina watched as he picked up what looked like a tall can of lemon-lime soda. "I'm a bit thirsty, but—"_ _

__"Well, I promised you at least one drink, didn't I?" Remmy let himself smile. "I walked out thinking that I'd drive you to a good place with my car, but then I realized that—"_ _

__"I walked here," Martina and Remmy said simultaneously. They both stopped. They locked eyes and made a hearty laugh together._ _

__"Lets sit back for a moment, relax, and I want to see what you think of this," Remmy went on. He motioned her to sit on the bench with him and she immediately hopped over._ _

__Martina popped the top of the can and brought it to her lips. "I prefer, as is blindly obvious by now, I guess, grape sodas, but—"_ _

__"Oh, it's no soda."_ _

__Martina took a good, long swig. Right from the very beginning, it felt like nothing he'd tasted before— at least nothing in a long time. The combination of sourness with this almost painfully sweet sensation felt somewhat more like getting a shot of anesthetic from a dentist than something they'd serve in a BugBurga counter._ _

__" _Holy_ ," Martina moaned. She wiggled her body all over and shoved the can against her sides, clutching it close like a stuffed animal. She knew that the concentrated booze would flood her bloodstream before long._ _

__"Amazing stuff, am I right?" Remmy raised those big eyebrows of his._ _

__"Hell yes!" Martina called out. She downed the rest of the can. The sheep leaned his head down and poked it up against her shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Finally, after the stoat licked her lips and tossed the can into the wastebasket, they met eyes once again._ _

__Leaned up together so close, even the absolutely terrible surroundings— flat, antiseptic lights of the grocery store parking lot blasting downward from the massive lamps as chill wind blew across a batch of dying shrubberies— didn't seem to matter anymore. Martina brushed a paw against Remmy's chest. He rubbed a hoof against her shoulder. She half-closed her eyes. He half-closed his eyes._ _

__"So, uh, here we are," Remmy began. He had reached a particularly special moment— one that he'd seen in countless romantic comedy films, TV sitcoms, and the like throughout his life. Despite taking their guy right to the finish line, girl after girl would pull some kind of sudden trick on their stud— making them pass some kind of last moment test in order to prove their emotional endurance. "There's a lot of places where we could go from here."_ _

__"Yep."_ _

__"There's a lot of things that we could do."_ _

__"Yep."_ _

__"Like..."_ _

__" _Like me_ ," Martina cooed. Remmy's heart raced as the stoat massaged her paws upon one of Remmy's hooves and brought it up against her skirt. Every inch of her slender figure had this tingly sensation that felt almost like magic, fur sticking up on end._ _

__"Oh, dear God..."_ _

__"Alright, Remmy, listen."_ _

__"I'm listening." Remmy's hoof slipped all around Martina's rear end, poking and prodding, as the stoat guided his every moment._ _

__"You know how most of the prey girls in this district like someone but don't actually do anything? How they just sit back and wish that they'd get pursued? How they end up caught in accidental mind games when they could just come out and say what they mean?"_ _

__"... yes?"_ _

__"Remmy," Martina declared, climbing onto the ram's chest and brushing a paw upon his chin. Remmy's breathing had gotten hot and heavy as much as his mind still felt woozy. Despite the huge contrast in size, the stoats little moves had pushed the ram so much that he felt flat back upon the bench._ _

__"Yes, Martina?"_ _

__" _Fuck me._ " _ _

__Remmy let out a torrent of emotional bleats. "Yes, ma'am," he murmured, sweat already starting to drip down his cheeks._ _

__"We can—"_ _

__"Wait, we going to your place?" Remmy asked. The stoat had closed her eyes and started massaging around Remmy's neck. The way in which her tiny paws slid against his muscles, especially after having to lug that bulky suit around for ages, felt like nothing he'd ever sensed before. "We could—"_ _

__"My brother's place, it's closer," moaned Martina. She leaned over and planted a trail of kisses upon the ram's shoulder. The bleats came out yet again. Remmy could smell her breath, and he knew that it had the same enchanting sort of sensation as his own. Whatever Betty had given them, both of their bodies already seemed boiling hot._ _

__"What if Charlie's home?" Remmy protested. "Or Marty himself? Last time I saw him, he—"_ _

__"Shhhhhhhh," Martina gently hissed, putting her paws upon Remmy's lips. After a few moments of letting the stoat slip her soft touches along his cheek, Martina kissed his nose. His own hooves wiggled against her entire back, moving almost on their own. "There's nobody there. I'm sure."_ _

__Remmy picked himself up off of the bench and stood up straight. Martina clutched his shoulder and rode upon the purple frills on his huge vest. If anyone else had been there, they likely would have rolled on the ground laughing at the ridiculous image. At the same time, the stoat's amazing cooing and intimate cuddling helped put a spring in Remmy's step. He practically hopped all the way back to his apartment complex._ _

__That awkward period between night and morning meant that a lot of Pack Street residents had either just gotten off of work or had left to head too it. Remmy stepped up the stairs and nudged his hooves against his chest. Martina cradled herself upon his shoulder, held close like a plush toy. Just before they'd made it to Charlie and Marty's apartment, the door to Ozzy's apartment creaked open._ _

__Remmy had gotten into such a physical haze— not just being filled with booze but having the night go on long past normal— that he didn't hear a thing. Martina, however, slid her head upward. She nudged it against Remmy's wool and winked at the hyena. Ozzy took in Martina's expression— she looked like a feline that had just swallowed a canary— and he winked right back as he eagerly clasped his paws together._ _

__The ram ventured into the fateful apartment and leaned far over, letting Martina wiggle off of his shoulders and onto the ratty couch. He'd come in frequently enough to have gotten used to the immense mess. As Remmy shoved a hoof backward to shut the door, his mouth opened up wide. Martina slide her body down against a fluffy pillow and clutched her shirt with both paws._ _

__"You've already seen quite a bit, big boy, what with that long peek up my skirt," Martina murmured, watching as Remmy slowly came forward. She picked up her shirt and calmly slipped it off of her. Every tiny motion captured the ram's attention perfectly, and the sheer control that she had gave her that thill that she knew she'd never get used to. "But this goddess has plenty more to offer."_ _

__Remmy hovered his hooves in front of Martina's bare chest. Her huge nipples appeared so inviting— some kind of sweet-smelling lotion covering the smooth-looking fur. The ram took a gulp and massaged his hooves in a big circle. Martina fluttered her eyes and kissed the air._ _

__The ram couldn't take it anymore. He thrust his mouth forward and loudly slurped— tongue moving inch after glorious inch from the stoat's belly up to her shoulders. Her wonderful noises caused him to wiggle his head around and start suckling the middle of her chest. As his lips pressed down upon her nipples, the stoat's own paws warmly pet Remmy's wool._ _

__"Oh, babe, someone's needy!"_ _

__The power in the stoat's seductive squeaking proved too much. Remmy grabbed her tightly by the belly and locked his lips onto hers. Both their tongues seemed to dance. She slid hers against his teeth, acting so assertive that the ram could barely think. As they both held each other close, Remmy knew that she called herself a 'goddess' for a reason._ _

__The stoat eventually broke the kiss. She popped her face against Remmy's own fuzzy chest and clutched one of his hooves, moving it onto her lower back. He moaned. She moaned louder._ _

__"Ready to graduate from the couch to the bedroom, stud?"_ _

__"Yes, my goddess," Remmy muttered. He staggered himself off of the couch, nearly falling over upon a pile of laundry._ _

__"Then follow me." Martina let out a chuckle. "It's time, dear boy, that I make an adult out of you." She licked the tip of her paw and took in a little breath._ _

__"So, uh," Remmy murmured, trailing her as she walked over to Marty's bedroom. He fumbled his hooves together as she stepped up onto the blankets. "I _have_ done this sort of thing before, okay, but not for a while. A long while. I just—"_ _

__"Shhhh," Martina whispered. She spun around and rubbed her face seductively against a pair of pillows. Entranced, the ram watched as she danced about the blankets. She ended up poised in the exact middle of the bed. She raised her rear end up perfectly, presented high in the air, and made a torrent of giggles._ _

__Remmy moved a few inches closer. He stood still for a moment. He reached up his arms, and he kept on moving. He finally made it so that he gripped his arms around Martina's shoulders. His face lined up perfectly, he closed his eyes and nudged his mouth forward. His wet kiss covered all over the stoat's warm panties. His tongue slipped up and soaked her lower back, desire rippling across his body._ _

__They both felt waves of raw pleasure filling their senses. After making a few glorious moans, letting Remmy take the lead for a few minutes, Martina abruptly grabbed one of the pillows. She wiggled her rear against the ram's nose and then slide it behind her._ _

__"Wait, what—"_ _

__"Lie down on your back, body flat on the blankets," Martina ordered. Remmy shifted a step away from her. "I need to show you something. And, before that, I need to see something." Her grin looked incredibly devious in the best way._ _

__Remmy obliged. Before he had time to think, the stoat ground her entire body against her belly. With only her skirt and panties still on, she pulled the black fabric down yet again before clutching Remmy's crotch. His bulge fought hard against his clothes— part of him seemed to almost beg to be let loose._ _

__"Your goddess is curious," Martina remarked. She rubbed her face against Remmy's crotch, the ram's breath getting heavy, and she slide her paws under his clothes. As if by magic, the stoat had instantly shoved his shorts half-way down his legs. "Never seen what a sheep had to offer before."_ _

__"You ready for your lambchops?" Remmy muttered, sweating profusely even as he tried to show some confidence. The stoat stood up straight, holding her paws against the ram's exposed thigh and puffy vest, and gazed at Remmy's member._ _

__Compared to an average canine or the like, Remmy was nothing special as far as width and strength went. What sheep had going for them, though, was length. Inch after inch of his throbbing meat stretched up into the air before Martina. She looked at his face, at it, and then back to his face once again. She smiled from cheek to cheek. She then pressed her body against the tip of his member and swooned._ _

__"Oh... wow..." Remmy awkwardly remarked. His eyes fluttered as Martina cuddled her entire body close. The combination of her skirt wiggling around his shaft while she began kissing the very end pushed buttons that Remmy didn't even know he head. The sweat began to pour off of his face._ _

__"Want to see me pole dance, stud?"_ _

__"Oh... _wow_."_ _

__Martina twirled her body around— her paws delicately tapping against Remmy's thighs— and she clutched the full length of his hard thing. She put on lewd expression after lewd expression as she slid her feminine figure up and down. Every last nook and cranny of her fur massaged against Remmy's throbbing shaft. The fact that her dancing looked so elegant— move after move showing the grace of a ballet performer— seemed almost too much._ _

__Little drops of pre-cum already slip down onto the stoat's hair. As she giggled, hugging her paws tightly against Remmy's thing before ravenously slurping the tip, Remmy let out a loud noise. It surprised them both— the ram sounded as if his heart wanted him to howl— sounding exactly like Al or Betty._ _

__"I'm, oh my," Martina panted, rubbing her tongue long Remmy's member, "I'm really close too—"_ _

__"Martina, I, oh God," Remmy murmured, feeling the bursts of pleasure inside of him starting to reach their peak. He wouldn't know whether to call it a 'bodyjob', 'hugjob', 'snugglejob', or whatever the hell else, but the little mammal's tender nudging and reckless kissing had just about melted his brains with pure bliss._ _

__"You don't need to say a word, just let your goddess bring you to paradise!"_ _

__"Martina!" Remmy felt himself pulsing downstairs, unable to hold back._ _

__Her eyes fluttered, the stoat sucking in a torrent of tiny breaths. "You ready to—"_ _

__" _Cum_!" They both screamed out. Remmy thrust out his hooves and pressed Martina's face upon his shaft. The stoat slid out her own paws and gripped every last inch of the ram's hard thing like her life depended on it. Thick warmth dripped out onto both of them._ _

__Time had already started to lose its meaning. They both froze in place— bodies locked tightly together— as the ram's hot cum kept oozing out. His balls seemed to let out every last drop that he could spare. It looked as if his animal-instincts wanted him to mark the sexy stoat's fur and flesh as his territory. They both panted hard. The frantic twitching and little tears sliding down Martina's cheeks made it clear that she'd enjoyed every last second as much as Remmy had— maybe even more so._ _

__Eventually, Martina pulled her paws completely off of the ram's shaft. Already going half-flaccid, both the stoat and the ram's meat flopped down against Remmy's wool. Martina still took in heavy breath after heavy breath. Remmy, for his part, remained locked in a blissful stupor. He managed to slide a hoof down and pet it gently against Martina's hair._ _

__-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-_ _

__At some point, they both had drifted off. Neither of them had any work to do anytime soon. As sticky as they both had gotten— her hot fur and his hot wool feeling two parts deeply awkward and three parts surprisingly intimate— it didn't matter one bit. Still, not that many hours had passed before a sudden ray of light peeking through the curtains stirred the ram._ _

__"Oh, uh, good... morning. Evening. Whatever the hell it is," Remmy moaned. His mind felt as adrift as ever, even as he tried to think. The hangover hadn't hit him, thank goodness, yet._ _

__Both of them brushed up against the nearby pillows. Martina wiggled up his wool a tiny bit before making a pleasant sigh. "I take it you had a lot of fun. I sure did."_ _

__"Some surprises kept it interesting." Remmy laughed. "For a girl, you sure cum a lot yourself," the ram muttered, barely even thinking. The stoat simply looked up at him silently. "I guess with the tube-like mammals, with the girls and their... pseudo-penises? It's more... dramatic than your normal girl?" The ram's train of thought ran off of the rails, but he barely cared._ _

__However, a cold chill seemed to go over Martina's senses. She nudged her head against Remmy's hoof all of the same, loving the tender petting, but her worried expression seemed to job the ram's mind. He suddenly tried to sit up straight on the bed. His hooves, moving by themselves, scraped against the side of Martina's face._ _

__"Ow!" The stoat batted an eye as she shivered._ _

__"Oh, sorry, I just—" Remmy stopped, pulling his arms off of her. He immediately felt something weird and soft getting stuck to his hooves. The ram's stared blankly at the fuzzy black object for a split-second— trying to kick it away. It flung through the air off of him and made a 'splat' noise upon a nearby mirror. "Wow, what the hell was that—"_ _

__"Remmy, I just," Martina began, her worry-soaked voice sounding nothing like he'd heard before. It seemed tense and gruff. "Need—"_ _

__Both of them stopped completely, eyes wide as dinner plates. Remmy glared at the wig-bereft stoat. Make-up had smeared all over. The little one's skirt had torn off completely as well. Despite all of the alcohol and hormones still surging through his system, Remmy had a deep realization that hit in a way that it never had before._ _

__Martina was Marty._ _

__Of course, he'd suspected that. That the stoat only really showed up at the gym and the library seemed utterly suspect. He'd asked around about the cute little friend over the past several days only to have Pack Street residents draw a blank. The few exceptions— Avo, Charlie, and Ozzy making dumbfounded expressions and changing the subject— only made things more awkward. The supposed siblings looked so alike. They shared so many interests. Their voices weren't even that similar. And, naturally, they shared the same grape obsession._ _

__At the same time, a sense of plausible deniability pushed Remmy not to care. He craved having more predator friends that he could simply throw himself onto emotionally— no games, no snark, no surprises, and nothing else standing in the way. Something about unbridled friendship from the get-go as if backgrounds meant nothing felt so special. Yet, still, he'd eventually ended up tearing the facade up completely— ripped to pieces forever._ _

__To top it off, thick whiteness coated the stoat's fur. As what Remmy had before him truly sunk in, all of its implications hitting him at once, he marveled at how much wool had stuck to the stoat's entire body. He couldn't believe that he had let loose so much._ _

__His mind screamed at him, as well, that he'd unloaded himself onto a _guy_. Even more serious, he thought as the overcome stoat simply panted and looked at him, he'd _made another guy cum._ Their thick seed had even _mixed up together_ — poured in a pool all over the little mammal as if he'd accidentally falling into a bowl of cake batter._ _

__Remmy had fucked Marty._ _

__"You, well," Marty started to say, closing his eyes and scraping his body off of the ram's side, "you probably have a shitload of questions—"_ _

__"Can I level with you?" Remmy asked. He took in a deep breath._ _

__"And we both need one _hell_ of a shower."_ _

__"I mean _really_ level with you?"_ _

__"Yeah," Marty replied, letting his voice get completely gruff, "you deserve that." The stoat hopped off of the bed and reached for a clump covered in towels. He looked neither afraid nor angry. His expression seemed, above all else, more regretful than anything. Remmy thought that Marty appeared like a young child told that he wouldn't get the Ewe2 tickets he wanted this Christmas or something._ _

__"If you want to keep going with this alter-ego thing," Remmy remarked, stepping off of the bed, "I'm game. Hell, it's now the day after Valentine's Day— no pressure anymore, right?"_ _

__"I guess. Look, Martina is, ugh, she's really damned complicated," Marty said with a sigh, pulling the towel over his head, "but I could start with how—"_ _

__"And don't forget this."_ _

__Marty popped the cloth over his eyes. He smiled as Remmy held up his discarded wig in front of his face. The stoat snatched the small black object and clutched it against his chest._ _

__"She's... she's a special 'girl', Remmy."_ _

__"I think I get it."_ _

__"A 'girl' that go places I can't. Say things I can't. Live a life I can't. She reads like out of a different novel than I do— that's the key thing. She's a 'girl' that can dream dreams that would make me almost gag from how stereotypical and sweet they are— living in a kind of slice-of-like ebook made to relax the mind, meanwhile I'm caught in this turgid batch of prose trying to mix black comedy with drama."_ _

__"I really do get it."_ _

__"So, well," Marty murmured. He had absolutely no idea where to go._ _

__"How about sharing that shower?"_ _

__"... really?"_ _

__"After all, both of us are super uncomfortable for being so sticky for hours on end," Remmy remarked, letting himself chuckle._ _

__"I guess I'd... I'd like that."_ _

__The two mammals traded nods— both of them barely able to get what had just happened yet both trying their best to keep it together. Finally, Marty flinging open the door to the bathroom, he stopped to consider their dual reflections in the mirror. Despite everything, the stoat had woken up stiffer than usual downstairs. His panties did nothing to conceal the fact. Meanwhile, Remmy appeared barely able to stand up._ _

__"Look, 'stud'," Marty let out, gesturing above his head. Remmy simply looked on blankly. "I know it seems like we're poised just for me to be an easy lay. I'm a transformation away from some fun times right down the hall— ready to scratch a mutual itch every other night. But I, well, I have to—"_ _

__"You need to me to not jerk myself around— to not act like I did when I first moved here. I get it. I shouldn't— I _I won't_ — let whatever shit I've waded into bleed into how I act with 'Martina'." _ _

__"We can fuck and go our separate ways, two ships crossing in the night, but if it's gonna be a regular thing... we need to think things through a lot."_ _

__"Oh, totally, I've go to look at you in the face morning after morning when I wash my damn socks."_ _

__"Yeah, you don't have to buy me some stupidly overpriced candy or half-dead flowers or whatever, but it needs to be more than just a bit of fucking."_ _

__"Take things as they come..."_ _

__"Yep." Marty hopped over and started the hot water. The shower got nice and comfortable before long. Remmy hovered closely behind him. "Like I said, she's a special 'girl'."_ _

__"A 'goddess', right?" Remmy made a hearty laugh. The stoat silently jumped into the shower, shoving his paws down to his panties. He danced a bit in place as the fabric seemed to get caught on one of his legs. "Holy shit, Marty, you should tone down on the power bottom talk! Next time you might end up convincing yourself to sit a guy's dick and wind up sweet-talking your way into the hospital!"_ _

__"Hey, I'm slinky!" Marty thrust the shower curtain a bit more open and flipped his panties into the air. It landed with a wet noise right onto Remmy's belly, the fabric clutching against his wool. "Hah, that's a sign, isn't it? And I can prove to you that at least the tip fits!"_ _

__"I'm not so keen on my third lay in the past three years finishing with the preyophile needing diapers and a wheelchair, alright? Hey, I've gone as far as to sleep with a crossdressing whore before, but that doesn't mean that I don't have limits!"_ _

__"Fuck you, grazer!"_ _

__"Fuck you, tube dude!"_ _

__"Good idea," Marty responded, gripping the soap, "hop in, 'stud'."_ _

__-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-_ _

__"Avo, move your ass!" Betty called out. The smaller wolf shoved her head out of the door. Betty stepped closer, eyes narrowing. Avo had on a quizzical expression, her paws clinging together some kind of a large vase that she apparently had been trying to glue back together._ _

__"Oh, come on, what? What it is?" Avo's tone sounded a bit more flat and tough than usual. That and her messed-up fur made it look like she hadn't gotten that much sleep lately. "You know what time it is?"_ _

__"Don't care! Now," Betty went on, shoving a paw into her side pocket and pulling up a crumbled bit of aluminum, "you mind telling me just the hell extra you spiked these phony sodas with?"_ _

__"Yeah, well, they're even really soft drinks. Oh, dear, don't tell your parents," Avo muttered, putting on a saucy expression as she pretended to hide her mouth behind the vase._ _

__"Shut it, dummy!" Betty held up the crumbled can as if to dunk it right between Avo's eyes. She paused, though, and cocked her head to the side. "Look, just spill it, okay? You haven't been moving around the standard _club-soda-meets-wine-coolers-meets-vodka-meets-exotic-sugary-salts-too-hot-for-the-FDA_ liquid freakishness. The hell else got in there?"_ _

"Oh, for the holiday, I just _had_ to slip in some milk of amorous clover," Avo remarked, rubbing her head against the door. Her eyes looked up over at Betty like a naughty anime schoolgirl asking her sensai for forgiveness. The larger wolf merely glared back. "You know, 'coitus trifolium'? I thought—"

"Don't. Pull. That. Shit. Again." Betty pressed together both her paws and crunched the soda can into a miniature ball. She let it slip down out of her grip into Avo's semi-fixed vase. It landed with a loud 'clink'.

"Alright."

"Next time we might end up with a paring that's less cute," Betty softly remarked. Avo barely had time to process it before the larger wolf slammed the door to Remmy's apartment. The smaller wolf couldn't see it, but Betty's grin stretched from cheek to cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much for reading!
> 
> Please post if you have any comments, criticisms, suggestions, or anything of the sort. Since I've probably overused them in the past, I tried a little experiment in terms of writing without italics. Please let me know what you think of that. I'd also like to mention my appreciation for author BoneyM. He didn't just give helpful advice in writing this but has written his own Pack Street based romantic story lately, it being well worth checking out. And thanks once again for reading this piece.


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